Scooter in the Sticks

Exploring life on a Vespa Scooter and Royal Enfield Himalayan motorcycle.

Rain Riding

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Life is not a problem to be solved, but a reality to be experienced.
Soren Kierkegaard

Vespa GTS scooter on winding wet roadWith rain riding, the road is long and often dark.

Especially during the last week.  Rain and heavy overcast has created what can be an oppressive environment for riding both physically and mentally.  Rain riding often asks for a little extra from a rider to get on the road and stay safe while there.

Stopping along the road to make a photograph gives you a chance to examine the pavement you’re riding on.  A few steps, a drag of the sole of a boot along the road surface provides a sense of traction and the limits to work within.

And I’m always looking at the landscape in which my life unfolds.  On some days it can feel like a scene from a movie.

Vespa scooter alongside bicycle pathThe universe provides reminders that it’s not a movie.

Like finding a new bicycle path as a hint that some of my motorized riding could be transitioned to body powered travel in recognition of a healthier way of living.

I looked at my pink mountain bike today and considered riding it for a fleeting moment.

Vespa GTS scooter and farm landscapeThe world is a big place with magic everywhere.

I feel that but know it hasn’t always been the case.  Something changed that has allowed me to see the world differently.  I like to ascribe that change to riding the Vespa but I could just as easily credit my camera which has forced a continual visual engagement.

If pushed I would probably say the advancement of years has made everything more precious.  Looking around I realize how fleeting it all is.  Riding provides a front row seat on the world.  Getting older provides the patience to watch the show.

Round bales in a farm fieldReality is strange.

Riding across the valley south of State College brings a rider through some open, rolling agricultural areas.  The round bales almost seemed like some new form of livestock as they sat in the corn stubble.  The scene feels more like a painting than a photograph.

Vespa scooter and a foggy apple orchardYou can never see everything.

Fog and mist shroud the ridge tops obscuring the view. Imagination fills in the gaps and I’m always imagining Brigadoon.  Funny how stories stick in your head and trigger a desire for something magic to happen.  I have a long list of daydreams.

Vespa GTS scooter at the Pump Station Cafe in Boalsburg, PAThere is rest for the weary.

By the end of the ride, just shy of 50 miles, I was feeling the dampness and chill seep into my body.  Not painful or uncomfortable but enough to allow genuine appreciation of a hot drink in a warm place.  It’s easy to imagine travelers moving through the wilderness 200 years ago by wagon or horse and coming upon an inn at the end of a long day.

And so I sit with my hot tea staring out the window and imagining other lives and times, all because of a little rain riding.

Uncertain Rider

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Steve Williams with Vespa GTS scooterAs much as I love to ride there are days that I don’t. The reasons vary from sloth to injury with a myriad of rationalizations, excuses and justifications in between. Over time I’ve learned nothing is as simple as it appears and whatever is going on in my head is always worth inspecting even if it makes me an uncertain rider.

Independence

I was raised to be independent, take care of things, not complain, and move on. Attendant to that way of functioning in the world is what I call the “know it all” personality that reduces everything to a simple formula with little attention to the details that make every person and experience unique. It may be what makes slogans so seductive – everything from “Just say no to drugs” to “Just do it”. I certainly lean toward the easy solution that avoids the troublesome and messy landscape of emotion. In that place I can become an uncertain rider.

Yesterday morning my head was clogged with concerns and worries creating a swirl of anxious thoughts about everything from the manner in which I would repair a section of drywall in the bathroom to figuring out how to tackle production of 60 online courses when I get back to work. With my brain switching quickly from one thought to the next it was difficult to focus mental or physical energy on anything including riding.

Not Riding

Every rider has reasons not to ride. Those reasons provide the framework to evaluate situations in which our skills, expertise and comfort fit. It’s different for everyone – a framework that keeps one rider smiling may terrify another. Finding personal limits is scary because it may mean you’re different than everyone else. In some riding circles being different is not a comfortable position. The same often applies to life – I think of my return from Germany in 1964 with a brand new pair of suede Lederhosen thinking they were the coolest thing ever. Then I wore them to my 5th grade class…

Self Portraits

I stopped on the way to the Pump Station Cafe to make this self-portrait because I knew something wasn’t quite right and there are times when turning the camera my direction helps diagnose problems. (A gift from long ago via Ralph Hattersley’s book Discover Your Self Through Photography).

So here I am – what do I see?

First, it’s cold outside and I’m wearing jeans instead of my armored overpants. Diverging from wearing all the gear all the time always means something. In this case I didn’t really want to ride and wasn’t sure why I even got on the scooter in the first place.

Second, I’m standing in the water. I chose the spot to park the Vespa based on the photographic possibilities offered by reflections in the water. Not paying attention led me to stand in the water. Not paying attention while riding, especially on a cold, wet day can lead to poor choices.

On Down the Road

On this day I moved on to the Pump Station to write in my journal, eavesdrop on conversations, and slowly sort out my thoughts. An hour later I was at home doing chores. An hour after that I was back on the Vespa with all the gear, riding into the gloom, no longer an uncertain rider.

Alone on the Road

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Vespa GTS on a rural roadRiding alone has curative powers for my irritated mind.  Destination or route don’t seem to matter as much as being alone with my thoughts.  Being alone isn’t as much a desire as it is a need.  Without recurring doses of time alone I get:

  • irritable
  • grumpy
  • disagreeable
  • out of sorts
  • quick-tempered
  • cranky

Basically a pain in the ass.

At some level I probably recognized this personal quality and adjusted my interests and time to satisfy the need to be alone.  Walking, hiking, wandering with a camera and now riding.  A few miles on the scooter and the world begins to make sense.  Or at least my restless thinking begins to calm down.

This morning it was cold when I left the house with the temperature at 41F.  Destinations rolled through my head as I pushed the Vespa out of the garage but none fired enough neurons to form a plan.  A plan isn’t really necessary when being alone is the goal.

Vespa GTS 250 along Spring CreekMost of the leaves are down now and we could see snow at any time.  The days continue to shorten and already I’ve gone to work and returned home in the dark.  This morning I took a short ride just to soak up some sunshine and embrace the day.  I’ve been by this place many times but I’ve still not really seen it.  When asked if I bore of riding the same paths I always think of the photographer, Josef Sudek, who during the Nazi occupation of Prague spent years photographing in his little studio and window and made a remarkably complex and rich collection of photographs.

There’s much more to see on the roads I travel.

large pumpkin statue made of round hay balesI never saw this hay bale pilgrim all ready for Thanksgiving.  Someone spent some time and effort putting it together including the use of hydraulics considering the weight of a round bale of hay.

Lots to see on the road.

Vespa GTS 250 scooter in a field under a blue sky with cloudsA perfect morning.  Looking at the scooter in such an idyllic setting it’s hard for me to understand why anyone would oppose someone learning to ride.  Even when considering more traffic intensive places the question persists.

I’ve heard a resistant spouse or lover raise the danger question fearing the almost certain death that accompanies riding.  It may present as “we have children” or “I had a friend who rode…”.  I understand the concern and I’ll be the first to admit that riding is more dangerous than driving a car.  But there are other points to consider.

Who is taking the greater risk?  A distracted driver, frustrated and in a hurry to beat traffic or a rider focused on the road, relaxed and happy?

And who is a better partner, parent or lover?  The angry driver who comes home wound tight or the rider who arrives home with a measure of serenity mixed with pleasure?

Vespa along rural roadI like to think riding has made me a better person.  I certainly feel lighter and happier after a ride, even a short one through ordinary places, alone on the road, alone with my thoughts.

bagel and tea at the Pump Station CafeAt the end of the ride I stopped at the Pump Station Cafe to make a few notes and read a few more pages from Thomas Merton’s Thoughts In Solitude.

Like Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values, it takes some work to understand and for some the Christian perspective can be a problem.  Even though Merton was a Trappist monk, his writing kept his religion personal and never felt as if he were preaching.  The first book I read by Merton was The Seven Storey Mountain, a fascinating story of Merton’s withdrawal from the world and into a monastic order of silence.

It’s safe to read — I wouldn’t fear abandoning your worldly possessions to become a monk.  And besides, if you have a scooter or motorcycle, you don’t really need a monastery.

Politics and Riding

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Vespa GTS 250ie scooter on a gravel roadAutumn is my favorite riding season.  It’s quietly exciting visually as the forest changes from green to gold and then bares it’s naked bones.  The falling temperatures push the body just enough to keep you awake and the frequent gray gloom overhead allows the mind to imagine a challenging world.

At least that’s how the road unfolded as I moved along Tussey Ridge.  And for a brief time I thought about politics and the world in which I ride.  They (whoever they are) say all politics are local and after some consideration I think I can agree.  The issue, regardless of what it is, always has a local aspect, even if it’s a world leader considering their personal legacy as they negotiate an international treaty.

lone oak tree in a farm field in autumnWhen I consider politics I find myself always on the outside looking in.  Even when I could be inside.  Years ago I saw a lot of how the sausage was made while working on a congressional campaign as a photographer.  I remember the day I was asked to photograph the opponent looking bored or “stupid”.  At a press conference the assembled photographers would fire their motor-drives at critical moments of gesticulation.

My camera would be silent, at least until a nose was wiped or a head was scratched.  The shutter echoed across the hall and the other photographers would turn my way.  After two or three shots the opponent’s campaign manager was on to me.  The politics were local.  And dishonest.  When the campaign ended I retired from politics and took up what would become a more honest path as an observer.

Looking at the tree in the field standing by itself, quiet, unconcerned, waiting for something to happen I couldn’t help but think of how much of my life unfolds the same way.  Just waiting and watching.

That may explain the lure photography has had for me all these years.

Vespa GTS 250ie scooter on gravel roadI’m not an activist or advocate — even about riding.  The recent Poisonous Tradition post was a natural off shoot of the storytelling I do on Scooter in the Sticks — sharing what I see, feel and experience while riding.

The temperature hovered at 50F while I tracked along a reasonably well mannered gravel road.  The high point of flaming foliage is behind us now but a slash of color still dazzled the otherwise monochromatic landscape.  And my back was pleasantly cooperative as well.

Vespa GTS 250ie scooter along Linden Hall RoadConsidering my aversion to politics it’s surprising I recently joined the American Motorcyclist Association, a group that supports a number of positions that I find perplexing but I was really just interested in the roadside coverage.

While stopped to make a few pictures I met Ace, a fellow who owns a little farm along the creek.

Portrait of Ace, master mechanicAce walked up to the road to see what I was doing and check if I needed help.  We talked awhile about cows and trout and the change in ownership of farms along the Cedar Run branch of Spring Creek.  Ace spotted the Vespa right off but was surprised it actually was a Vespa thinking they quit selling them in the United States decades ago.  After a quick inspection the conversation moved to Fords, and eventually to a shared experience in wrenching on a 1962 Ford Falcon.  He and I both had experience rebuilding the three speed transmission (without synchromesh for first gear) several times. Turns out he’s a master mechanic.

I thought about asking him a few political questions; his thoughts on the health risks associated with woodsmoke, whether loud pipes actually save lives, or whether our freedom was at risk from a growing nanny state.

The observer in me was curious but none of it mattered at the moment.  Ace’s brother came looking for him and I had lunch on my mind.

It doesn’t take much to dissuade me from political discussions.  And even less from religious ones.

Just a little shake of my head and like an Etch-a-Sketch I’m ready for another ride…

Morning Fall: a video reminder of the risk of riding

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https://vimeo.com/bossboyd/morningfall


Morning Fall
by Edward McGinty

The riding season approaches and with it a kind of tradition I’ve been building of presenting the Morning Fall video as part of a reminder to myself and other riders, beginners and experienced, of the risks we face and accept when we take to the road.  I don’t believe we can ever afford to be complacent or deny what it means to ride.

So like the annual appearance of the Wizard of Oz or It’s the Great Pumplin Charlie Brown, have a look at Morning Fall.

Does anyone else think about risk or has it drifted into the background?